Voldemort Takes a Permanent Vacation
by marylou
Summary: During the duel between Harry and Voldemort, Harry uses an unknown spell. Later that same day, Calypso finds an unconscious body on her island.


Voldemort and Harry Potter circled each other carefully, each watching the other for some sign, neither wanting the be the first to make a move.

"The true master of the elder wand was Draco Malfoy," Potter said almost calmly.

Blank shock showed in Voldemort's face for a moment, but then it was gone. It was impossible, what Potter was saying. And even if he was right, it mattered little.

"But what does it matter?" he said softly, voicing his thoughts. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have your phoenix wand; we duel on skill alone . . . and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy . . ." he ended with a gentle hiss.

"But you're too late," said Potter. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him." He twitched the hawthorn wand in his hand, and Voldemort could almost feel the force of everyone's eyes on it. It mattered little. They were all inconsequential.

Potter was talking again, trying hopelessly to delay the moment of his death. "So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Potter. The thought flashed through Voldemort's mind that Potter had inherited a love of the dramatic from his mentor. And their fate would be the same, in the end.

"Does the wand in your hand know its last master was disarmed? Because it if does . . . I am the true master of the elder wand."

A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Potter's was suddenly a flaming blur, the dark red of old blood. Voldemort's tongue slid out as he licked his lips in anticipation, raising his wand.

" _Avada kedavra_!"

At nearly the exact same moment, he heard Potter yell out, " _Misit sanentur_!"

The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead center of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where their spells collided. Voldemort saw Potter's spell hit his own jet of green, then he was clutching at his wand desperately as he felt it slipping through his fingers. He saw his wand, the Deathstick that he had searched so long for, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air toward _Potter_ , and in that moment Potter's spell hit him, and he was falling back, arms flailing, as the world around him grew into darkness.

* * *

He woke up with a start. He glanced around, seeing blue sky and trees above him. The sound of a fountain gurgling could be heard, and the smell of juniper and cedar and other herbs filled the air. He breathed deeply, the calming smell reminding him of his younger days, when he would spend all day in his potions lab, away from the idiots that the world was full of.

He tried sitting up, but a cool hand on his forehead pushed him back. "Stay still," a girl's voice said. "You're too weak to rise."

"Lord Voldemort is never weak!" he snarled, trying to rise up. The hand on his forehead was firm, keeping him still. "I will destroy you and raze this place to the ground!"

"Yes, I'm sure you will," the girl said gently.

He could feel himself slipping back into unconsciousness. "Don't - don't patronize me," he gasped, before slumping back onto the bed.

. . . . .

He woke up again. He didn't know how long it had been. The girl's face appeared suddenly above him. She had brown eyes and hair braided over one shoulder. She looked to be a teenager, but it was hard to tell. Her face seemed timeless. She laid a cool cloth across his forehead. A bronze spoon hovered over him and liquid was dribbled into his mouth. The drink soothed his throat and left a warm chocolaty aftertaste. The spoon withdrew, and she began singing. Immediately, his pain dissolved. He could feel her music sinking into his skin, healing and repairing his burns. She was using magic, but it was a magic that he had never seen or felt before. He relaxed into the bed, feeling the pain disappear.

Suddenly, he felt a twinge of pain. He hissed. The pain grew worse and worse, starting in his chest and spreading outwards.

"Stop!" he hissed at the girl.

She shook her head firmly, putting a hand on his chest to keep him down. "No, you're injured, I'm healing you."

"I don't need your help! I- Ahh!" he gasped, his eyes growing blurry. "What- what have you done? Who are you?"

'Shhh,' she said. 'Rest and heal. No harm will come to you here. I am Calypso.'

The next time he woke he was in a cave, but as far as caves go, he'd been in a lot worse, and a lot better. The ceiling glittered with different colored crystal formations- white and purple and green. He remembered fondly his chamber of secrets, and the basilisk that had kept him company there. His face soured. Potter had probably destroyed his chamber, like he had his companion. He was lying on a comfortable bed with feather pillows and white cotton sheets. The cave was divided into sections by white silk curtains. Against one wall stood a large loom and a harp. Against the other wall were shelves neatly stacked with jars of fruit preserves. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling: rosemary, thyme, chamomile, and others that he recognized.

There was a fireplace built into the cave wall, and a pot bubbling over the flames. He glanced over at the cave opening.

The cave opened onto a green meadow. On the left was a grove of cedar trees and on the right a huge flower garden. Four fountains gurgled in the meadow, each shooting water from the pipes of stone satyrs. Straight ahead, the grass sloped down to a rocky beach. The waves of a lake lapped against the stones. The girl with the braided caramel hair, the one who'd called herself Calypso, was standing at the beach, looking out over the water. He sneered at the view. It looked like something only a Hufflepuff could dream up.

He sat up, looking around the cave again. This time, his eyes caught on a burnished metal mirror on one wall, and he froze in surprise, his hand reaching up to touch his face. Yep, he had both his nostrils again. And not only that, but he no longer looked like a mutant snake-human thing. He looked as he once had, in his prime, before he had delved into the darkest magic he could find.

"What have you done?" he whispered.

"I healed you," a calm voice said from behind him.

He jumped in surprise, turning to face the girl. Calypso, she had said her name was.

"But that's impossible," he protested, shaking his head. "You can't- do you know how difficult that would have been? It should have been impossible for you. And do you know how much work I put into myself?"

"Your magic was corrupted."

"I know!" he yelled at her. "That's what I wanted! It was the only way! How could you-" he broke off.

"I used an ancient hymn to heal you. It reverted you to back when you were still whole."

His face whitened. When he was still whole- did she mean before he started splitting his soul? But that meant… "You mean I'm a teenager again?"

She nodded, smirking. "A rather attractive one."

He sneered at her. "Physical attraction is only a tool used to manipulate the weaker minded. Why would you do that to me?"

She watched his face carefully, reaching out to brush a lock of his hair from his eyes. He flinched away, his eyes wary, his hand automatically reaching for a wand that wasn't there.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I've just grown used to caring for you. As to why I would, well, you looked alone. As if you didn't have anyone left. And no one deserves to be along. As to how you got here, you fell from the sky. You landed in the water, just there." She pointed across the beach. "I do not know how you survived. The water seemed almost to reject you. As to where you are, you are in Ogygia."

"Ogygia?"

"Ogygia is my phantom island. It exists by itself, anywhere and nowhere. You can heal here in safely. Never fear."

"How do I leave?"

"Are you sure you want to leave?" she asked, her eyes sad. "What is there for you out there?"

"I- there's a war, I need to get back," he snapped.

"A war? And what is your part in this war?"

"I was the leader of- of a group, and we were fighting, we wanted to fix things."

"Fix things?" she murmured.

He nodded. "It's stagnant, society is stagnant, and nobody does anything to change it!"

She watched him carefully. "You were hurt."

He faltered. "I- I was. It took me awhile to prove my worth, to prove that I was not somebody to be messed with. They abandoned me there, with people I did not belong with!" he snapped angrily. "They called me a freak. They hurt me." His face was ugly. "I swore that I would make sure that no one else would have to endure that."

"How?"

"I will destroy them all," he stated coldly, his eyes glinting red in his handsome face.

She drew back from him. "You do not understand," she said sadly.

He sneered at her. "Oh, I understand perfectly what I need to do." He tried to stand.

"You are not yet healed. There is still much anger and fear in your heart." She reached out and pressed a cool hand to his forehead.

"What are you doing?" he questioned. "I need to get back! They need-" his eyes blinked blearily, the cave around them appearing blurry. "They need me. I need-" and the cave went dark as his head fell back onto the the pillow.

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, Harry stared at the spot where Voldemort had been standing in shock. The crowd surrounding him was silent; the battle temporarily paused.

"Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," he answered her unspoken question. There were a few murmurs from the people in the crowd.

"You don't know what that spell was?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope." He paused. He didn't want to tell her where he'd found it. He knew how she'd react.

"It was from the Prince."

"Oh, Harry." The disappointment in her voice made Harry wince.

"He's not that bad, you know," Harry tried to defend himself. "I looked in those memories from Snape. He wasn't that bad." Harry tightened his grip on his wand and stared at where Voldemort had stood. It had been a long day. A long year, actually. And now he'd made it even longer. Now they'd have to figure out where Voldemort as. If they were lucky, then he was dead. But if not, well, hopefully Hermione still had the tent.

Hagrid broke the silence. "Harry, you're alive!" He lumbered forward, his large arms embracing Harry and lifting him off the ground. Harry laughed.

That broke the silence. The crowd cheered, racing forward to join the group hug. The war may not be over, but at least the battle was.

* * *

 **Portions of this are quoted from The Battle of the Labyrinth and _Harry Potter and t_ he Deathly Hallows. The title of this story is taken from the title of chapter 12 of The Battle of the Labyrinth.**


End file.
